


lovely weather (for a christmas curse together with you)

by tinyegg



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, but also serious at times? I'm not sure but it's okay because it's STYDIA, stiles and lydia are forced to do christmas otp challenges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5446703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyegg/pseuds/tinyegg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Lydia wants is her venti-iced-caramel-macchiato-light-on-the-ice-with-extra-caramel. Instead, she gets some Christmas faerie — seriously, when did 'supernatural threats' in Beacon Hills get this ridiculous? — who is beginning to seem unhealthily obsessed over hers and Stiles' relationship. Which doesn't even exist. </p><p>Not that Lydia wants it to, of course.  </p><p>(Or where Nikki the Christmas faerie reads an unholy amount of fanfiction and thinks she's found her next OTP: Lyiles! Or stydia, whatever. Result: Lydia and Stiles are unfairly subjected to the 10 day Christmas OTP challenge.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	lovely weather (for a christmas curse together with you)

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely lxdiahmartin.tumblr.com! 
> 
> Just a warning, don't take this fic too seriously. It's mostly crack-ish. Here are the challenges Stiles and Lydia had to get through: 
> 
> 1\. Holding Hands  
> 2\. Baking Holiday Treats  
> 3\. Christmas Shopping  
> 4\. Ugly Christmas Sweaters  
> 5\. Reindeer (probably not what you're thinking)  
> 6\. Building Snowmen  
> 7\. Christmas Carols  
> 8\. Ice Skating  
> 9\. Decorating Christmas Tree  
> 10\. Mistletoe (make of that what you will)  
> \- though that last one includes a little snowball fight as well
> 
> Happy holidays, Jess!  
> xoxo, your Secret Santa :)

 

"Okay, look I don't think you understand just how much moping I have been forced to sit through here." Stiles gesticulates wildly, voice reaching an increasingly high point of desperation. "A Scott without Allison is like a one-man mope-fest! The last time I saw him, last week, was like watching a video of sad puppies drenched in the rain on an endless loop!"

 

Lydia rolls her eyes, quickly directing her attention to the menu above since it was almost their turn to order.

 

"Lydia, are you even listening? Come on, it's Christmas. How much can a little... giving hurt?" Stiles makes a vaguely inappropriate thrusting motion, causing Lydia to scrunch up her nose in distaste.

 

"Stiles, that is disgusting. I cannot believe we are having this conversation."

 

"How bad can it be, Lydia? Nothing can ever reach the level of terrible choices in dating like — oh, let's say — a reptilian killing machine, can it?" Stiles looks at her pointedly.

 

She ignores the less-than-subtle jab. "So what, you're just going to set Scott up with some stranger, who knows nothing about our world and is more than likely to leave with a broken heart? We both know Scott is so far from being over Allison, he probably still thinks about her under him." She cuts him off before he can protest in his best friend's honour. "Don't even pretend, Stilinski. There's _no way_ I'm letting you lead some girl on just so that your best friend can trample all over her feelings, no matter how unintentional that may be."

 

Stiles opens and shuts his mouth, like a gaping fish. "Close your mouth, you look like an idiot." Lydia finishes frostily. Finally, he swings his head forward in some imitation of a nod, a groan escaping his lips.

 

"So much pizza... so many romantic tragedies..." Stiles mutters dejectedly, head still bowed.

 

"Hi, welcome to Starbucks! What can I get for you today?" A cheerful voice breaks their conversation. Lydia looks at the cashier with a polite smile, but before she opens her mouth to speak, Stiles beats her to it.

 

"She'll have the iced caramel macchiato, less ice, extra caramel. Venti, please." Stiles says. He grins at her, the one where one side of his mouth curls up more than the other, forming a lopsided half-smirk, the earlier dejection dissipating entirely. "You're obsessed with that drink."

 

Lydia gives him an unimpressed look. "Please. You were just about to order your gingerbread latte, extra whip cream and brown sugar. Honestly, I don't know why you take this much sugar in your diet, you're hyperactive enough without it."

 

"Got me on that one. But actually, ADHD —" Stiles says, with that look on his face that Lydia knows means he's about to go into a 5 minute ramble so she interrupts quickly. "That's all, to-go please." she says to the cashier. "Sorry about him, he's always like this."

 

Rather than impatient, the cashier shoots them a delighted grin, complete with eyes sparkling like Lydia had personally brought her Christmas itself. "Oh no, you two are adorable! How long have you been together?"

 

The unexpected question completely catches her off guard. "What?" she chokes, the same time as Stiles dissolves into a flailing mess. "No, we — uh, it's not like that —"

 

"We're not together." Lydia finishes lamely.

 

The energy buzzing around the cashier - Nikki, her name tag reads, with a cute drawing of a little christmas tree beside it - instantly dies down. "Oh... I'm sorry, didn't mean to assume." she says, ducking her gaze, but not before Lydia gets a blast of what Stiles had talked about - the feeling of sad puppies gazing at you mournfully.

 

"No, it's alright. We're close, it was an easy mistake." Lydia reassures her. Nikki's eyes light up once again, but this time she sees mischief flashing in her eyes. It was a bit jarring, how quickly this girl switched moods.

 

"Can I get your names?" Nikki says, gesturing to the cups at the counter. "I'll write them on the cups for you." Lydia doesn't know what it is, but the secretive smile she gives them suggests that she has something else on her mind as well.

 

"I'm Stiles," Stiles offers. "She's Lydia."

 

Nikki gives them another smile, before she bends over to scribble on the cups with a sharpie. Lydia glimpses a quick note of confusion pass over her face as she gets to Stiles' cup. Without hesitation, she jabs the sharpie in Stiles' face. "What's your real name?"

 

Startled, Stiles blurts it out before he even realizes he's doing it. "Mieczyslaw?"

 

Nikki tilts her head to the side. "Wow, this is in the least offensive way possible but that is a mouthful."

 

Stiles shakes his head with a laugh. "Nah, I get that all the time. You have no idea how difficult it was for me to get a bunch of kindergartners to pronounce my name. I gave up on it altogether in first grade. But how did you know Stiles wasn't my real name?"

 

Nikki shrugs, as she pours their respective drinks into the cups. "Feeling, I guess. Besides, what kind of name is Stiles anyway?"

 

Lydia brings a hand to her mouth to smother a giggle because _right?_

 

Stiles pouts — and Lydia will never admit this to anyone, but it's maybe even sort of cute. "You're born unfair. There isn't anything I can say about the name Nikki! There aren't even any weird names I can call you."

 

Nikki throws her head back in laughter. "Don't hate the player, hate the game. Oh and," she says, a sly smile curving her lips. Without warning, she darts forward and scribbles something on Stiles' arm. "Yeah, you can call me anytime."

 

The bolt of realisation hit Lydia even before she caught sight of the curly too-cute handwriting on Stiles’ left arm. It was her phone number.

 

She doesn't quite know what just happened, but it's leaving a sour taste in her mouth. No, she's not jealous, Lydia Martin does not do jealousy. It's just - this Nikki moves way too fast! They've met all of five minutes and she suddenly thinks she's perfect for Stiles? It's ridiculous.

 

Stiles is stunned as well, but he's not saying anything against it. He rubs the back of his neck, a familiar nervous gesture. "Ah — uh, thanks. I will. Call you, I mean. We could hang out sometime?"

 

Nikki gives him an amused look, but when her gaze travels over to Lydia, she swears it turns something mischievous. "Definitely," Nikki stresses the word, handing over their cups. "See ya, cutie." she throws in a wink, which makes Stiles all flustered and fumbling so much with the drinks that Lydia leans over and snatches them from him with a scowl.

 

"Stiles, if you drop my macchiato, you know there'll be hell to pay," she threatens. Stiles gulps, then gives her a sheepish smile.

 

"Yes ma'am," he says.

 

* * *

 

"Well." Stiles says, once they're out of the Starbucks and walking back towards his jeep. (Lydia questions how that thing is still running, sometimes. Maybe that's the true Christmas miracle.) "She was... nice."

 

Lydia frowns. "A bit _too_ nice. She was very forward."

 

Stiles laughs, fist-pumping. "Hah, yeah! Imagine that, Stiles Stilinski actually getting hit on by a cute girl! Take that Jackson and all other stereotypical high school jock douchebags."

 

"You think she's cute?" Lydia asks cautiously.

 

"You don't?" Stiles retorts.

 

Lydia steels herself. She knows she's not jealous. It's just that ever since all things supernatural had mutually decided that Beacon Hills was the perfect place to wreak havoc on, the number of people she considered actual friends had dwindled to far and few between. It was natural to feel a little... possessive of Stiles, she reasoned.

 

"Her shoes were cute," she allows with a disdainful sniff.

 

* * *

 

"Okay I know that this isn't an end-of-the-world kind of supernatural threat but something's happening to me and I really need you to call me back. I'm not kidding, it's really freaking me out — there is glowing and oh god it's so cold! Really Scott, unless you want your best bro privileges revoked, you better call me back like, right now. Or I swear to god."

 

 _Dammit Scott. What's the point of having a phone if you never answer it?_ It's not like he's with Allison now.

 

Lying with his back pressed against the wall, he studies his arm which is — holy shit, that will never _not_ be weird — glowing purple. Or rather, the numbers that Nikki had scrawled all over his arm are glowing purple, like she'd written them in some magical sparkly marker.

 

Wait — Nikki! Oh hell, there _was_ something sketchy about her.

 

He squints at the glowing numbers suspiciously and picks up his phone. Should he call? For all he knew, something even more bizarre might happen. And as far as Beacon Hills goes, bizarre could mean anything from a glowing arm to transforming into a giant furry creature of the night.

 

Finally, he decides against it. Back-up would probably be a good idea first. He speed-dials the number '3'.

 

"Hello? Stiles?"

 

"Hey Lydia," he says. "Uh, sorry to bother you so early in the morning and everything. I mean, no one's life is in danger... yet, so I guess it's not a very valid reason to call the pack together—"

 

"Stiles," Lydia interrupts with practiced ease. "Just spit it out."

 

"Right." Stiles rubs a hand through his hair. "Okay, remember Nikki? The girl from yesterday? Yeah, there may have been something weird about her after all. I think she's some kind of supernatural creature because, well..."

 

" _What did she do to you?_ " Lydia, perceptive as ever, asks immediately.

 

"The numbers on my arm? They're glowing. Bright purple, as if she couldn't pick a less outstanding colour." Stiles says.

 

There's a pause on the other end of the line, before Lydia says, "I'm coming over. Bringing the rest of the pack so see you in thirty."

 

Stiles huffs with slight amusement. "So bossy. But thanks."

 

* * *

 

Kira and Scott turn up at his house together, which Stiles would bring up — _seriously, since when does Scott hang out with Kira outside of supernatural stuff?_ — if he wasn't so freaked out over the glowing purple writing on his arm.

 

"Well, at least it's pretty." Is Kira's only comment after inspection of his arm.

 

Stiles shoots her an indignant look. "This thing could be sapping my life force or something! Sucking out my soul, doing horrible supernatural things to me. Not pretty, Kira, _not pretty_."

 

Kira looks at him with wide eyes. "You seem fine to me... But maybe we should get Deaton?" she says carefully.

 

Scott sighs. "He's in London right now."

 

Stiles flings his hands up. "Yes, but we can still call him, Scott. Geez, we're living in the twenty-first century, it's not like we're worried our carrier pigeon can't make the journey — oh no," he throws Scott an incredulous look once he catches sight of his expression. "No, you _cannot_ be serious. Your best friend's life may be in danger and you're worried about overseas call charges?"

 

Scott averts his eyes guiltily. "I was just wondering if there might be another way... since your arm isn't really doing anything dangerous right now. Never mind, I'll call Deaton."

 

"Our mighty alpha, everyone." Stiles mutters.

 

Scott returns with phone in hand, offering it to Stiles. "I put Deaton on speaker, but he would prefer to talk to you. And uh," he winces. "Make it quick. It's plus $0.50 per minute."

 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Alright Scotty. Hey Deaton, what's up?"

 

"Stiles. Can you describe the number written on your arm? And exactly what colour it's glowing? Is there any strange aura coming off?"

 

"It's purple. A very bright shade, like Belieber t-shirts at a Justin Bieber concert. Kind of sparkly? And the numbers are 87907653."

 

"Now could you describe the girl who wrote these numbers on your arm? What did she use to write, what was she doing at the time, what did she look like?"

 

Lydia broke into the conversation. "She used a Sharpie and at the time she was... flirting with Stiles. About my height, if not shorter, with platinum blonde hair and purple highlights. Her hair in a pixie cut and her eyes were... purple?"

 

"No, they were definitely brown." Stiles says. Lydia frowns. She attempts to recall Nikki's face but for some reason, her eyes seem blurry and their colour indistinguishable.

 

"Ah." Deaton says, in his usual neutral tone. "Did she have sort of pointed ears? Maybe seemed a little mischievous?"

 

"Yes." Lydia says with no little amount of distaste in her voice.

 

"Well then, that explains a lot. This means you are either very lucky, or very unlucky." Deaton says in a grave tone. Stiles exchanges an exasperated look with Lydia — Deaton, everybody. As helpful as ever.

 

"You may be dealing with a faerie. And Stiles, if so, the numbers on your arm should be glowing a much brighter shade than Mr Bieber's purple." Stiles makes a surprised noise, more shocked that Deaton knew who Justin Bieber was than anything. Deaton continues in his serious tone. "I am, however, unable to tell you what type of faerie you are dealing with. You will have to call the number and find out for yourselves. Until then, I am unable to determine whether this is a threat or not. Call again if it seems to be a life-threatening curse."

 

With that, the call is abruptly ended. "Why does it always seem that our consultations with Deaton always end with 'figure it out yourselves'?" Stiles grumbles. Scott opens his mouth, as if to defend his mentor, then shrugs.

 

Stiles dials Nikki's number, fingers twitching in apprehension. To his surprise, the call is picked up immediately, as if Nikki was waiting for them. But it becomes clear pretty quickly that it's a pre-recorded message.

 

"This is Nikkolas, resident Christmas faerie of Beacon Hills! If you're calling, it means that you have been selected for a _very_ lucky event — my annual Christmas magic miracle! Expect anything miraculous, from a week of snow days to finding  your destined loved one! Previous recipients have reviewed the experience as "incredible!', "snow days wiped out school for a week" and "help, my boyfriend turned into a reindeer!". Now, please enter the last three digits of my number to receive details of your 'Christmas Miracle'."

 

Stiles, numb in his horror, keys in the digits '653'. Immediately the phone buzzes, ending the call and indicating that it has received a new message.

 

 _Hi Stiles!_ it reads. _You'll be glad to know that your Christmas Miracle package includes the 'find-your-love' feature — the 10-day Challenge! You will receive daily updates on how to woo your destined significant other, which you are expected to follow or face the respective consequences. Now, get ready because your Christmas Miracle starts... today!_ Sparks shoot out of the phone, which is actually very worrying — he can't possibly explain another broken phone to his dad. His phone pings with another message which means phew, it still works. _Happy holidays! xoxo, Nikki <3 _

 

"What." Scott gapes, like he's just been hit with an avalanche. Actually, this has all been pretty much the verbal equivalent of an avalanche so his reaction is absolutely valid.

 

"Shit." Malia summarizes very helpfully.

 

"What now?" Liam asks, breaking the dumbstruck silence.

 

"I don't know," Stiles frowns. "I don't think I understood half of that so I guess we have to wait and —" It hits him like a bolt to the chest, simultaneously hot and cold and he feels something in him shift. It's not painful but it's incredibly uncomfortable and Stiles' legs give out from underneath him. " _Fuck_ ," he gasps.

 

Scott, thank god for his super werewolfy reflexes, catches him before he hits the ground. "Stiles," his grip tightens in alarm. "Your eyes."

 

 _What?_ Stiles can barely think over the buzzing in his head and icy chill spreading throughout his chest. Then, almost as quickly as it came, the feeling evens out and he's left feeling shaky, but normal again. "What the hell was that?" he leans against Scott, trying to catch his breath.

 

"Stiles, I don't know what just happened either, but for a few moments there, your eyes were glowing purple." Malia says bluntly.

 

Lydia touches his shoulder carefully, eyes focused on his in concern. "You were shivering like it was freezing, like you were in pain."

 

Stiles cards a hand through his hair. "I kind of was," he admits. "But not really. It was hot and cold, all at once. It was weird and I don't know what it is, but it feels like something inside me changed." It's then that he catches sight of his arm. "Holy shit," he breathes.

 

It's still glowing but the numbers aren't there anymore. Instead, they've been replaced by a set of glowing words, still in Nikki's cutesy-curly handwriting.

**#1. Holding hands**

 

Just as soon as he reads them out, the purple glow, thank god, fades to black. But now it just looks like he tattooed 'holding hands' on his arm, which is going to be difficult to explain to his dad.

 

"What do you think it means?" Kira asks.

 

"It's quite obvious, isn't it?" Lydia says in a matter-of-fact tone. "He has to find someone to hold hands with."

 

"Oh my god, I can see why." Stiles bites out, cradling his right arm which feels as if all the cold he felt before was seeping right into it. Scott immediately takes his hand, but everyone can see him wince.

 

"Dude," he says. "You're freezing."

 

"I think it's getting worse," Stiles stares at his hand in horror. Is it just his imagination or is it turning a little blue?

 

"Quick, everyone hold Stiles' hand." Scott orders. Stiles lets out a laugh despite himself. Out of all the things he thought he'd hear Scott say in his commanding Alpha voice, this was not one of them. Liam leaps forward instantly, latching onto Stiles like a koala. Kira soon after, followed by Malia. Lydia studies them and shakes her head.

 

"I don't think that's how Nikki meant for this to work." Lydia says. "She said this was meant for him to find his 'loved one'. Unless you're his 'destined one', McCall, this isn't going to work."

 

Scott opens his mouth, seemingly about to protest that hey, Stiles is his soulmate in all ways platonic, yada yada, and while Stiles appreciates the sentiment, they really do not have time for this. "Lydia's right. I need to find this soulmate ASAP, before my hand falls off from frostbite."

 

"I'll hold your hand till then? We were dating not long ago." Malia offers. Stiles smiles at her appreciatively — although her face is dead serious, the offer is actually kind of sweet. She takes his hand and whoa!

 

Malia notices him startle. "What?"

 

Stiles shakes his head slowly. "I'm not sure. For a moment there, it felt like my hand got warmer, but now it's mostly numb from cold so I can't tell." He shrugs. "Where do we go from here? Do I just go around asking random people if I can hold their hand, or what?"

 

"You're usually the one with the plan," Malia makes a face.

 

Stiles makes a hapless gesture to his half-frozen hand. "A bit hard to think when I'm half freezing to death."

 

"I think we should split up," Lydia interjects smoothly. "Stiles, Malia, we should go see Derek. He didn't answer his phone earlier but he's probably still around his loft. He might know something — he could have come into contact with faeries before, since his mother was so well-known in the supernatural world. Scott and the others, check out the library. If Elle the librarian is on duty, tell her that Lydia sent you and she'll let you into the restricted section in the back."

 

Stiles makes an impressed noise. "That's some Harry Potter shit right there. You’re totally Hermione, Lydia."

 

As much as she tries to hide it, Stiles sees the corner of Lydia's mouth quirk up — hah, he knew it, secret Potterhead! "Let's just go, Muggle." Stiles makes his sputtering protests all the way as she ushers him out the door.

 

"—What, come on Lydia! I would at least be a Mudblood or a Weasley or something! You can't throw me into a world where magic exists and tell me I've got no magic!"

 

Once the bickering duo are out the door, Kira taps Scott shoulder, a look of disbelief on her face.

 

"He does realize that he is actually the Muggle in our situation right? I mean, werewolf, kitsune, banshee... human?"

 

Scott shakes his head, giving her a crooked smile. "Abominable snowman," he says, like there’s a joke only he’s in on.

 

* * * 

 

Derek is upon them the moment they step into the loft, sniffing the air with a mildly annoyed expression on his face. (Note: the Derek Hale scale of grumpiness indicates that his 'mildly annoyed' looks like a normal person's 'intensely irritated'.)

 

"Faeries?" He looks at Stiles as if this is somehow his fault. His eyes land on the words on his arm, then on Malia's fingers loosely wrapped around his. He raises his eyebrows.

 

"Hey," Stiles says. "Don't judge. I can sense your eyebrows thinking this is all stupid. It's not — I'm positive my hand would have already frozen if Malia hadn't been holding onto it this entire time."

 

Derek holds out an expectant hand. Stiles looks at it, confusedly. "Dude, are you asking to hold my hand? Because you could have just told me so. I don't think I'll ever sleep well again, knowing I could have heard our resident Sourwolf say the words 'I Want To Hold Your Hand', in the great words of The Beatles —"

 

"Stiles," Derek growls. Privately, Stiles thinks it's completely for show. No one is really scared of Derek's growling anymore, not even Isaac. "Shut up. Let me see it. And don't call me dude." He beckons again with his hand.

 

"Fine, fine —" Stiles places his hand in Derek's and holy god, it didn't last long but that had felt good. "Oh man, it was only for a second but that was hot. Like just-burned-my-hand-on-the-stove hot." It shouldn't have felt that good but feeling anything at this point is an improvement. "Now explain what's going on?"

 

Derek is staring him in what seems like half-horror, half-terror. Jesus, Stiles didn't think Derek could look that scared. "What? How bad is it?"

 

"I —" Derek appears to regain a handle on himself. "It's some sort Christmas spirit, not exactly a faerie. She has a corporeal form, but she draws her power from Christmas. It's likely she can only perform one major spell per year or lots of little ones but both only around Christmas time."

 

That's an impressive amount of knowledge — and words — from Derek. Stiles considers offering him a lollipop or something, but decides against it in favour of keeping his hand from getting bitten off. "So what's up with my hand turning frozen? We think it's something to do with finding my 'true love' or some other sappy bullshit, but so far it just seems determined on killing me slowly no matter who's hand I hold."

 

Derek stiffens. "You're... right," he says, jaw clenching tightly. "It's supposed to get warmer if you hold hands with the person you have higher romantic potential with."

 

Silence hangs in the room as they let his words sink in.

 

"Holy shit!" Stiles nearly doubles over in laughter. Oh god, it's really not a laughing situation but this could not get any better. "Are you telling me I have higher romantic potential with you than with my ex-girlfriend? Alpha Sourwolf? Oh my god. No offense," he adds, turning to Malia.

 

He winces when he notices her eyes flashing blue. "None taken," she bares her teeth in a snarl.

 

"Ah," Stiles says weakly. "The thing is, Malia, you have to look like you mean it when you say that."

 

Lydia clears her throat. "Derek, I just want to know, if we're unable to keep the freezing at bay, is it likely to spread to other parts of his body?" Derek shakes his head, pointing to the tattoo on Stiles' arm, which explicitly states hand holding.

 

"Oh thank god," Stiles says. "You just made me realize how much it would suck for me to have certain... uh, parts of my body frozen." Lydia rolls her eyes and flicks his arm. _I-mm-ature_ , she mouths to him slowly. He grins back, unapologetic.

 

"Wait," Stiles remembers. "Derek makes my hand warmer. Does this mean I have to hold your hand until I find my destined love — or in werewolfian, mate?" 

 

Derek's features contort into a pained expression. "If you haven't found her or him by evening," he grits out. "I'll come over. With that, please find your girlfriend as soon as possible."

 

"Oh har har, werewolf's got jokes. I'll have you know it's a privilege to hold my hand, ungrateful cretin." Stiles glares. He makes am over-the-top 'can you believe him?' expression at Lydia, while tugging at Malia to indicate that they're leaving.

 

They hear Derek's mutinous voice as they're exiting the doorway.

 

"For god's sake, werewolves don't even have mates."

 

Even Lydia releases a quiet giggle at that.

 

* * * 

 

They're not laughing by the time they get back to Stiles' house. Stiles is pale and leaning on Malia for support rather than leading her. Lydia bites her lip anxiously — if Scott doesn't have any leads on what to do next, they've got nothing.

 

Scott's already inside. He jumps to his feet when Stiles and Malia half-stumble through the door. Stiles collapses, exhausted, onto the couch. Lydia's heart sinks. It's clear from his reaction that they haven't found anything either.

 

"Dude..." Scott goes to Stiles' side, resting a hand on his shoulder though he knows it won't do anything. "You're not looking too good."

 

Stiles squints at him, like he's about to make a sarcastic remark, but eventually heaves a small sigh and rolls over. "Well," he murmurs, voice low and cracked.

 

Scott's eyebrows knit in confusion. "Well, Scott. It's 'you're not looking too well', not 'good'." Kira clarifies, coughing awkwardly. Stiles grumbles, seemingly in affirmation.

 

"I thought Derek said the cold wouldn't spread to other parts of his body." Malia says, crossing her arms.

 

Looking at Stiles, sickly pale and lips edging towards blue, Lydia isn't so sure. Voice tight, she replies, "I don't think the cold has spread. But that also means that as the pain increases, it's hyperfocused on that one hand. Stiles' body is straining with the effort to stop the nerves on his hand from dying, that's why he looks so sick. Stiles isn’t actually in any mortal danger." Logically, Lydia knows this. But it doesn't stop her heart from clenching painfully whenever she looks at Stiles, curled up and in clear pain.

 

"I'm calling Deaton. I don't care if it's not life or death, Stiles is in pain." Scott says firmly. "Someone else call Derek. We might need him here."

 

Lydia thinks about Derek, how Stiles lit up for a second when he'd touched his hand. She looks back at Stiles. "I'll stay with him," she says. Scott nods and the rest of the pack follow him out of the room.

 

She gets a wool-knit blanket and drapes it over Stiles' minutely trembling body gently. She sits next to him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. He doesn't look conscious but she starts speaking anyway.

 

"Stiles. We'll figure this out, okay? We always do. Don't worry, it'll take just a little while. Scott's working on it, Derek's coming over later, I..." Lydia's fist clenches around the edge of the blanket. Somehow, her eyes fall onto Stiles' hand, which is unmistakeably blue with cold.

 

_Do I take it? It can't do any harm... But what if nothing happens? What if I hold his hand and..._

 

_But everyone else is trying to help Stiles. I haven't done a single thing so far. Even Derek and Malia have tried harder!_

 

She purses her lips, mind made up. Her fingers loosen around the blanket and she leans over him to take his hand. The moment their skin touches is electrifying — freezing cold and Lydia has to clamp her mouth shut to stop a shriek from escaping her lips. Her fingers curl around his, squeezing tightly.

 

Then — nothing.

 

Lydia doesn't feel a single thing. There isn't a magical flash of purple, nothing. Lydia sags with disappointment, her body pressing into Stiles'. "Nothing," she whispers, almost unable to believe it. For a moment... it felt like —

 

Then she hears it. A low murmur, soft and fierce. It's — it's coming from Stiles! She shifts, heart thudding, placing her ear near his lips.

 

"Lydia."

 

It's so simple, just one word. Yet, the way Stiles says it — she's never heard anyone say her name that way before. His voice is slightly slurred, thick with warmth but he says it with a strange, fierce pride. He finally looks up, and she sees that his eyes are half-glazed over. With pleasure? She shivers, an unbidden sensation running over her spine. He holds up the hand that's entwined with hers. Not a trace of blue to be found.

 

Lydia rests her forehead against Stiles' shoulder, a strong surge of relief coursing through her body. Moments pass in the shared comfortable silence, until Lydia decides she should get up to let the others know.

 

Unexpectedly, the long, — god, she'd never really noticed how long his fingers were — bony fingers tighten around hers. Stiles lifts head weakly. "Stay," he says, a note of pleading in his voice.

 

Lydia freezes. She knows he's probably not conscious of what he's saying — probably not even going to remember this whole situation in the morning. She licks her lips. She'll just stay with him until he falls asleep, she decides, climbing gracefully back onto the couch and lying down. Besides, what if the cold came back while she was gone?

 

She forcefully pushes away more difficult thoughts — does this mean she and Stiles are supposed to be in love? — and instead focuses on much more pleasant and simple thoughts, like the warmth between their two hands and the way Stiles' subconsciously curls toward her in his sleep — as if his considerably longer body is somehow protecting her smaller frame.

 

It's... nice.

 

* * *

 

That's how Scott finds them, fifteen minutes later. Asleep and clinging to each other, hands firmly interlaced even in sleep. He looks at Lydia for a moment, her falling around her face, tucked into the crook of Stiles' neck. He holds a finger to Stiles' hand, which feels utterly normal and smiles.

 

Liam comes in a second after. His eyes fall on Stiles and Lydia. Confused, he asks, "Why didn't we try that earlier?"

 

* * *

 

"Nikki made a mistake." Lydia explains. "She saw us at Starbucks and thought that we were a couple."

 

"Except we weren't," Stiles says, rubbing his hand — his thankfully not frozen hand — against his face. "And now she's making us do coupley things in hope that we'll fall in love."

 

"She's not actually malicious though, is she?" Kira says thoughtfully. "She's pretty much a matchmaker. With powers. Well, she did go a bit overboard, but maybe she's just enthusiastic, right?"

 

"She nearly froze off my hand." Stiles tells her flatly. "Besides, Lydia and I are just friends. What right does she have to force us together?"

 

Except he really didn't mind. Stiles wonders if the werewolves can hear his lie, although he technically didn't say anything untrue out loud. If so, he's screwed because he has to spend another nine days pretending he doesn't still love Lydia Martin.

 

Stiles startles — _thank_ you, guilty conscience — when his phone buzzes.

 

"It's from Nikki!" He announces. The pack immediately crowds closer to see.

 

 _Hey Stiles! So... yesterday didn't go so great. Honestly I didn't think it would take you two that long to figure it out —  I mean you two are totally meant for each other!_ Stiles wonders if Lydia can see his blush.

_Don't worry, your hand wouldn't have fallen off — yikes! It would just cause enough pain for you to black out :-) Anyway, I decided to lower the bar a bit for you two so today's challenge is a bit easier. Cheers! xoxo, Nikki_

 

There's barely time for him to react — the same hot-cold feeling explodes in his chest, and leaves him feeling tingly all over.  Thank god, it's not as bad as the first time. " _Yikes_ ," he huffs, clambering to his feet, "is the biggest understatement for this whole situation ever. I can't tell if Nikki's actually crazy or if it's just a faerie thing."

 

Liam points to his arm. "Hey, you got a new one!"

**#2 Baking holiday treats**

 

"Oh, that is a lot easier." Stiles grins. "I bet none of you have ever had my piernik before, have you?"

 

Scott's eyes widen. "R-really? You... you will?"

 

Stiles grin widens. "I know you love me."

 

Scott collapses, head tilted toward the ceiling. "I don't even care anymore," he murmurs. "Nikki is officially my hero."

 

Everyone laughs, tension at the prospect of a new challenge vanishing. "Is it really that good?" Lydia asks, though not in a mean way. Stiles offers him arm to her.

 

"Well if you would let me escort you, I'm always in need of beautiful company. You can see for yourself."

 

Smiling back, Lydia hooks her arm around his and allows him to bring her to the kitchen.

 

"Hey, no flirting! I want my food!" Actual 5-year-old Scott whines.

 

* * *

 

"I already have the ingredients, since I usually bake some for my dad around Christmas time. I was planning to this year too, unless we got attacked by wendigos or something." Stiles says conversationally, rummaging through the cupboards.

 

"Wendigos don't exist, Stiles." Lydia says, sitting daintily atop the kitchen counter. She's pretty sure he gets all this from _Supernatural._

"They could!" Stiles whirls around, pointing an accusing baking spoon at her. "And now that you've said that, they'll probably attack us next week! Ugh, I'm not in the mood to entertain extra guests for Christmas."

 

"Particularly not those hungry for human flesh?" Lydia quips. "Come on Stiles, that's ridiculous."

 

Stiles groans. "Lydia, hate to break it to you because you're hardly ever wrong but have you seen any horror movies? Jinxes are totally a thing. The douchebag with the snapback who goes all "ghosts aren't real" is always the first to get dragged away by the ghost. It's the rule of the universe." He grabs a handful of ingredients and shuffles over to the counter. "By the way, could you help me pre-heat the oven?"

 

Lydia flushes.

 

Stiles — damn him — picks up her discomfort immediately. "What's wrong?"

 

Lydia brushes him off and walks over to the oven. "Nothing, I'm fine. I'll just..." Her fingers hover over the mess of buttons and dials. _Where's the in the world is the on button?_

 

"Um Lydia... would you by any chance... Have you baked anything before?"

 

Lydia's gaze drops to the floor. "No," she admits. "My dad's the only one who knew how and he didn't exactly stick around to teach me."

 

A light, gentle touch grazes her arm. She looks up to meet his warm honey-coloured eyes, and knows in that moment that he _understands_. "It's okay not knowing how to do something, Lydia."

 

"Fortunately, my mom taught me how to make her famous polish gingerbread cookies before she passed. Besides," he curves his lips in an impish smile and his eyes light up in mischief. "This means that I'm actually better than Lydia Martin in something!"

 

Lydia shoves him, breaking into giggles when he stumbles backwards and clumsily knocks a mixing bowl to the floor with a _clang!_ He tsks at her, but he's not even trying to hide the wide grin splitting his face. "Sorry Lydia, for that, you're going to have to endure my rambling and help me with baking."

 

He knows very well he has no authority over her, but Lydia lets him fool himself just this once. "Sure, as long you as you show me how."

 

"Of course," Stiles nods sagely. "I wouldn't want my kitchen to burn down after all this."

 

Lydia flicks some flour into his face to demonstrate just what she thinks of him.

 

* * *

 

"What is taking so long?" Scott moans, lumbering into the kitchen. "Hey!" He jabs an accusing finger at Stiles and Lydia, standing paralyzed and covered from waist up with flour. Lydia stares at him guiltily, until Stiles gets over his shock. He shakes his head vigorously, like a dog shaking off water, sending up a cloud of flour.

 

"Stop with the accusatory finger," he makes a face at Scott. "The cookies are almost done anyway. We just got a little carried away while they were baking. It's my kitchen, I can make a mess if I want to."

 

Scott wonders if it would be worth it to threaten to take a picture of the wrecked kitchen and send it to Stiles' dad, but then he decides not to. If Sheriff Stilinski can get over half the stuff they deal with regularly, he probably won't be that bothered by a messy kitchen.

 

A warm, heavy aroma hits his senses and his eyes widen with excitement.

 

"I can smell it!" Scott whirls to Stiles. "Are there any ready now?"

 

"Dude, you're a werewolf." Stiles says, rolling his eyes amusedly. "Not a dog. Just wait a few more minutes for them to bake."

 

"Well if that's all," Lydia says. "I'm going to take a shower. And there better not be an empty plate of cookies left on the table when I come back."

 

She struts away like nothing happened and her hair isn't covered in flour. Stiles stares at her admiringly as she leaves and Scott gives him a knowing look. Stiles shrugs, gesturing at her vaguely. " _Lydia_ , man."

 

* * *

 

True to his word, Scott didn't finish off the whole plate. In fact, the plate of cookies looks barely touched.

 

"Lydia!" Stiles waves from the kitchen. "I've been holding the fort for you so come have one while they're warm."

 

"Please, Lydia," Scott begs from the living room. "He hasn't let anyone even touch one because he says you have to be the first —"

 

"Hey! She was the one who baked them while you sat on your lazy ass doing nothing! Besides, what if it _has_ to be Lydia eating the cookies? She's the one I'm supposed to be doing the challenge with."

 

"You're totally making that up," Scott mutters. Liam snickers.

 

Stiles waves a hand. Ignore him, he mouths. He hands her a cookie and stands with one hand on his waist, a cocky grin on his face. Lydia pushes away the traitorous thought — _he looks_ hot _when he's confident_ — and brings the warm, crumbly cookie to her lips.

 

She makes a sound that she's embarrassed she ever made — some cross between a moan and a surprised yelp — as the delicious taste of ginger, cinnamon and nutmeg floods her mouth. Oh god, the cinnamon.

 

Stiles himself looks surprised at her reaction — is he blushing? — but delighted. "Told you." He says smugly. "Malia, Liam, Kira you can have a try now! Scott can wait like the mature Alpha he is, because he always puts his pack first."

 

"You're such an asshole!" Scott shouts into the pillow, lying face-down on the living room couch.

 

Stiles grins wickedly. "You really are," Lydia tells him fondly.

 

The pack all express their various praises for the cookies — except Scott, who's too busy stuffing himself to speak coherently — and the day ends with them happy and bellies full.

 

* * *

 

They fall into a sort of rhythm after that peaceful day. The challenges, Stiles admits, really aren't bad. They're straight out of the fantasies he used to have about the Christmases after he married Lydia Martin.

 

(Except, you know, Lydia isn't actually into him. She's made that clear multiple times, on several different occasions. That’s only romantically though — Stiles and Lydia are the ultimate team and no one can deny it. When he's down, Stiles likes to think about how many times the pack would have died without the two of them to help.)

 

**#3 Christmas Shopping**

 

Lydia takes him Christmas shopping. It's supposed to be for their pack presents but they get that done impressively quickly. A couple of cute sweaters for Malia, new lacrosse gear for Liam, a dozen pairs of funky socks for Kira and a skateboard for Scott, which Stiles knows he's always wanted — he's probably going to rock that now that he has werewolf superpowers.

 

It's then that Lydia reveals her true agenda.

 

"No!" Stiles cries, horrified.

 

"There is too much plaid in your wardrobe to be healthy, Stiles!" Lydia argues. "You've got a plaid fixation. Tell me, how many plaid shirts do you own?"

 

"Wha — that doesn't matter Lydia!" Stiles splutters. "My wardrobe has nothing to do with you. Not that I'm not flattered that you actually care enough but this isn't a teen romcom and you're not giving me a makeover!"

 

Lydia rolls her eyes and grabs him by the arm. Stiles sags, knowing he's been defeated. Hopefully, she won't make him throw out his cool limited edition Batman shirts.

 

(Lydia doesn't make him throw out anything but an old Aquaman shirt and honestly, Stiles couldn't protest. It's Aquaman — even he's embarrassed to own that shirt now that he's seen it.)

 

(He does come home with several tight-fitting shirts and jeans which are uncomfortable as hell but hey — Lydia gave him a nod of approval when he came out of the changing room. He's not going to argue with the Lydia Martin seal of approval.)

 

* * *

 

**#4 Ugly Christmas Sweaters**

 

Lydia looks at the unwrapped packages on the floor in dismay. Stiles, on the other hand, looks positively delighted.

 

He dives for the red sweater and yells, "Dibs on the reindeer!"

 

Lydia groans and slips on the green Christmas tree sweater. Ugly Christmas sweaters _, really?_ She thinks mournfully of the clothes they'd bought yesterday — which Stiles was supposed to wear until this new challenge appeared.

 

 _At least_ , she consoles herself, _the sweater is warm and comfy. Nikki knows what she’s buying._

 

"Oh my god," Malia says, wide-eyed. A grin bursts on her face. "When you two stand together, it looks like the reindeer is licking the Christmas tree!"

 

Lydia looks down and sure enough, the reindeer on Stiles' sweater is bending to its right, such that it faces Lydia's Christmas tree. "Couple sweaters? That's adorable!" Kira sounds dangerously close to squealing. "I've always wanted one of those!"

 

Lydia raises an eyebrow and her glance flicks casually over to Scott. "Maybe get a boyfriend first?"

 

Kira blushes and looks away, touching her hair shyly. _God_ , Lydia thinks, _Scott is so oblivious._ They've been dancing around each other for the past few days and it's painful for everyone to see. One of these days, she's going to tell Kira exactly how clear it is that Scott is into her.

 

"Come on, Lydia!" Stiles bounces over to her. "Pictures! We need to document this moment."

 

Lydia obliges, flashing her usual smile at the camera but to her surprise, Stiles shakes his head. "It's Christmas and you're wearing an ugly Christmas sweater. I'm not letting you look this good in this photo!" He declares and — oh god, no — starts tickling her.

 

Not many people know this, but Lydia Martin is deathly ticklish. She giggles uncontrollably and twists away but he locks his arms around her and pulls her back in. She hears the camera flashes clicking several times but all she can do is squirm helplessly in his surprisingly strong arms as he continues tickling her.

 

When he finally pulls away, she has tears in her eyes and grin that she can't seem to clear off her face. Her sides ache but it's worth it when she sees the photo. Both she and Stiles laughing so hard in their sweaters; her eyes are screwed shut and she’s not even fully facing the camera.

_It's perfect._

 

"Looks I failed," Stiles groans with disappointment. "You look great anyway."

 

* * *

 

**#5 Reindeer**

 

This challenge is completely ridiculous. It's not even a challenge, really — more likely, Nikki just did this to make fun of them. But the worst part isn't even that Stiles has antlers — yes, antlers — growing out of his head.

 

It's that ridiculous beanie he grumpily pulled over his head to cover them up. Lydia hates it, hates the way tufts of his soft brown hair peek out of the beanie, hates how _adorable_ it makes him look. She can't believe she allowed that thought to form, but she was doomed the moment he put it on and turned to her with that _can you believe this_ look.

 

"You look like an idiot," Lydia says, swallowing hard.

 

Stiles groans, whipping off the hat. (Lydia maybe, feels a tiny bit of regret at that.) "I know!"

 

He runs a hand through his already mussed-up hair, exposing the small stubs of reindeer antlers. Lydia pushes down the strange urge to touch them and opts to tap Stiles lightly on the shoulder instead. "Get the groceries with me? Put the hat back on, you're going to need it."

 

Stiles eyes the beanie warily, before assenting with a sigh and slipping it back on.

 

 

 _Nikki is definitely messing with me_ , Stiles thinks. _She probably did some weird faerie magic and is watching me right now, laughing maniacally like a cliche supervillain, only probably with a higher-pitched voice._ He lowers his head and makes a mad dash for the tucked away corner of the grocery store — which happens to be, of course, the diapers section. He frantically looks over his shoulder to see if anyone saw him, but to his relief, the aisles appear to be empty.

 

He leans against the aisle, catching his breath. _Holy shit_. His hands reach to feel the — his? — antlers, which are now several times bigger than they were before.

 

"Stiles!" Lydia skitters to a halt, her mouth forming a perfect 'o', as she surveys the now _massive_ antlers perched atop his head. “Wow. We have to get you home before anyone —"

 

"Excuse me, mister?" A young voice pipes up behind them. Oh shit, busted already. They whirl around and come face to face with... a kid who looks barely six years old, with pale blonde hair, wide eyes and the most adorable freckles he's ever seen. A beat passes, then the kid speaks again.

 

"Mister? I'm not sure if it weally is you but..." The kid takes a tentative step forward. "Are you Rudolph the reindeer?"

 

It takes every inch of self-control he has not to burst out into laughter. It's a delicate situation and there's only one way to handle it. He steps forward and kneels till he's eye level with the kid. "Yeah, I am. What's your name?"

 

The kid's jaw drops in a fully open display of bafflement. He only reacts after five seconds of staring in amazement. Jesus, the kid looks completely star-struck — it makes Stiles feel bad for lying to him but desperate times call for desperate measures. "Noah. If you're Rudolph... why do you look like a human? I mean, you have the antlers but..." His face scrunches up in confusion, which gives Stiles the uncomfortably strong urge to 'boop' his nose.

 

"Oh man, I can tell you're a smart kid, Noah. Well, it's so that I can walk with humans and not be recognized." A bolt of inspiration hits him. "I'm on a secret mission from Santa and grown-ups can't find out I'm here, so I'm going to need you to keep this a secret, okay? Please don't tell anyone that you saw me, or Christmas might not come this year. Can you do that for me?"

 

Noah nods solemnly, eyes wide as saucers. "Just one more question, Mr Rudolph. What is she?"

 

Lydia's quick to react. "An elf. I'm one of Santa's helpers so you can't tell anyone about me either."

 

Stiles holds Noah's little hands and looks him right in the eyes. "Thank you so much, Noah. You're doing a lot for us here. When I get back to Santa's, I'll tell him that a little boy helped us save Christmas."

 

Noah nods stiffly, trying to look serious, but he's clearly vibrating with excitement. Stiles and Lydia bid him farewell and escape down the other side of the aisle, Lydia using her coat to cocoon Stiles till they reach the safety of the car.

 

"Was that last line too much?" Stiles asks, fingering the beanie which is now sporting two large holes where the antlers shot right out of it.

 

Lydia looks at him like she's never seen him before. "Two things I never pegged Stiles Stilinski for. Theatrics and being good with children," she says in a soft tone, like she doesn't expect him to hear her.

 

He shrugs. "Just hope his parents don't crush his dreams too much when he eventually can't hold it in anymore and starts blabbing to them about how he met Rudolph in the grocery store."

 

* * *

**#6. Snowmen**

 

The pack insists that they have to be involved in this one, so they set up a mini snowman building competition — winner gets the first cup of hot cocoa and of course, bragging rights.

 

Even Derek shows up, mostly to grumble at how childish it all is but he cracks eventually, building a snowman of his own. Ironically, he wins their competition because _of course_ Derek would have a secret talent in art.

 

("Look at my tattoo though. Snowmen. Doesn't it sound vaguely threatening? If we don't complete the challenge, I'm pretty sure she's going to send some freaky evil snowmen to attack us, like the ones in Frozen."

 

"Olaf?"

 

" _No_ , Kira, oh my god, I meant the big snow giant."

 

"If that Olaf thing tries to attack us, I'll just tear him apart with my claws. Or use that carrot to stab him — I'm open to suggestions."

 

"Malia — _no!_ Seriously guys, _stop!_ Destroying the childhood of millions here!"

 

"Actually, I think Olaf's singing is annoying enough, he doesn't even need to attack us to kill me."

 

"Oh please, I know you're at that age where you're 'too cool for cartoons', but everyone and I mean _everyone_ heard you singing Let It Go in the shower last week. You were in a house full of werewolves, Liam."

 

"What — I — who told Stiles — _Scott!_ ")

 

It's completely nonsensical but Lydia laughs till tears form at the corners of her eyes. She can feel them, icy cold against her skin. It's like she's never been happier. Derek even generously allows everyone to take the hot cocoa before him, despite his winner privileges. There's a soft smile on his face, which speaks volumes, since Derek smirks, growls, broods but Lydia's hardly ever seen him smile, even when she knows he's pleased.

 

Stiles tugs her arm and hands her a steaming cup of hot cocoa. He gives her a warm smile, brown eyes sparkling with happiness that's been absent for a long time and Lydia feels a pulsing warmth grow in her stomach.

 

* * *

**#7. Christmas Carols**

 

This one went a little differently than expected. Stiles had been thinking maybe a little karaoke with the pack, maybe even going door-to-door — he knows Mrs Thompson down at the bakery would have loved it — but the moment he'd read the tattoo out loud...

 

The next words he spoke were supposed to be about maybe going outside to sing Christmas songs in the streets but all that would come out was: " _Lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you._ "

 

No matter how frustrated he got or how clearly he tried to enunciate his words, somehow, everything he said came out as lyrics to a Christmas carol.

 

"It's kind of funny," Kira comments, sharing an amused look with Lydia.

 

 _Not funny — incredibly inconvenient and frustrating!_ Stiles wants to scream. Oh man, this has ruined Christmas songs for him, possibly forever. If he never hears that goddamned _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ again, it'll be too soon.

 

(Not to mention how he kept singing it to _Lydia_ which was mortifying and not just because Stiles isn't exactly the next Parvati. Scott assures him he has a good shower voice, which honestly isn't that comforting either, but he takes it as his attempt to smooth over Stiles' embarrassment.)

 

* * *

**#8. Ice Skating**

 

"Oh man, this takes me back." Stiles says.

 

Lydia loops and tightens the laces on her ice skates. "Yeah, the last time I was here, I saw a creepy vision of wolfsbane growing under the ice and was being possessed by Peter in an effort to bring his dead body back to life."

 

Stiles' lip curls up in amusement. "Happy throwback-thursday?"

 

Lydia smacks him on the arm.

 

Giggles burst from inside the rink, where Scott and Kira are already skating. Or — Kira is skating and Scott is attempting to skate. Scott was never that great at sports before the bite ( _"I'm a great bowler"_ , god Stiles really wanted to hit him for _that_ one) and werewolf powers can't help you if you can barely balance on the ice.

 

Kira's holding Scott's hand, pulling him gently around the rink. Eventually when he gains confidence, Scott begins to show off — which Stiles knows is a huge mistake — and sure enough, moments later, he smacks into the side of the rink, just like he did all that time ago with Allison.

 

"Same old Scott," Stiles sighs through his nose. Scott, gives Kira a sheepish smile as he holds his hands out, waiting to be rescued from the ground. She heaves him to his feet, but he wobbles, almost taking both of them down again. "Graceful as a baby deer on ice."

 

Lydia laughs. "I think we have another orange-and-blue combination on our hands."

 

"Not really," Stiles goes silent for a moment. "They're clearly made for each other. Scott's just blind."

 

Lydia stands. "Let's go and see if you can do any better." Stiles eyes go wide with surprise, because holy shit — did that just sound _flirty_ coming out of her mouth? — and Lydia nabs his hand, leading him out onto the ice.

 

It only takes a few minutes before Lydia pulls away and leaves him to stare as she executes a flawless set of twirls and even little leaps. She's adorable in her knitted hat and puffy coat, yet impossibly graceful on the ice. Stiles sucks in an admiring gasp as she leaps again, and lands facing him, a bright smile on her face.

 

To his surprise, she extends a hand to him again. "Kira and Scott seem to be having a good time over there but I think it's time we crashed their party," she declares.

 

Stiles grins in return. " I say we have a couple race."

 

The words slip too easily out of his mouth, even though he knows they're not actually a couple. Lydia doesn't address it though, only giving him a wink in reply, so he doesn't either. He simply takes her hand and lets himself bask in the warm glow in his chest for a while.

 

* * *

 

**#9. Decorating Christmas Tree**

 

Liam actually knocked over the Christmas tree once. Stiles thought all that teenage clumsiness disappeared once he got werewolf powers, but apparently not.

 

Malia glared at him until Scott did his duty as Alpha and reprimanded him (lightly, because Scott is a damn softy.)

 

Lydia also turns out to be a total perfectionist when it comes to Christmas decorations. Stiles stands back and watches in amusement as she gives rapid-fire instructions for where to put the red baubles, silver and gold streamers and the stockings. The pack scurries around even _big bad wolf Derek_ submits to Lydia's authority, apparently. Stiles watches as she pauses to advise Malia to keep the orange decorations away from the blue ones — in a gentle tone that reminds him how much she's changed since freshman year.

 

As if sensing he's slacking, she turns and zeroes in on him. Her sharp eyes narrow. "Come on, Stilinski. You're helping me put the star on top of the tree."

 

He raises his hands in surrender and allows her to lead him to the tree. She looks at him up and down, a thoughtful look on her face. "You can probably reach the top easily, can't you."

 

"Yep," he replies, a cheeky smile on his face. "But I know you want to be the one who puts the star on top." Without warning or thinking twice, he wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her so that her head is level with the tip of the Christmas tree. She lets out a surprised yelp, which is both undignified and adorable — and for a moment, he wonders if he went too far, acted too familiar with her — but then, she pats his head approvingly and crows "this is the best!"

 

She places the golden star right on the top of the tree, and Stiles slowly lowers her to the ground. She gives him a wide smile, unlike any smile he's ever seen on her face, cheeks tinged pink and eyes lit up with happiness.

 

Stiles is wants to kiss her so badly, kiss her till that smile gets impossibly wider.

 

Scott lets out a whooping cheer, thankfully distracting him from his thoughts, when Kira taps two fingers to the tree,   sending a current of electricity flowing through the circuits and lighting up the decorations. (Stiles personally thinks Kira has the _coolest powers ever_ , straight out of the X-Men universe.)

 

"We're ready for Christmas!" Kira announces with a bright cheer.

 

* * *

 

(Christmas Eve)

**#10. Mistletoe**

 

No one speaks for a full ten seconds, just drinking in the word displayed prominently on his arm, and all the... implications it carries. Finally, Scott coughs awkwardly. "We'll just... leave you two to figure it out. For now, I think we should just go ahead with whatever we would do normally."

 

"Ooh!" Malia perks up. "It snowed more last night."

 

Liam catches on immediately. "Snowball fight!" He jumps to his feet like he's already ready to go.

 

"I proclaim myself leader of Team A!" Stiles announces, drawing up to his full height and Lydia admits that her eyes drop to the hem of Stiles’ shirt, where a strip of bare skin is revealed for a brief moment. She tears her eyes away, swallowing hard. "And Lydia's on my team."

 

Scott leaps onto the couch to gain height over Stiles. _Children_ , Lydia thinks wryly. "I'm Team B's leader then! I want Kira."

 

"Liam," Stiles counters. "That kid has a mean throw in lacrosse."

 

"Malia," Scott grins. " _No comment required._ "

 

"Wait," Lydia says. "Where's Derek?"

 

"I called him to come over but he said he's only free in the afternoon — who knows what that grumpy dude does in his spare time, anyway — oh my god. I've got it." Stiles has that gleam in his eye, the unnerving one that means his next idea is either very good, or very bad. "Winning team gets to pelt Derek with snowballs when he gets here."

 

"Dude," Scott's eyes go comically wide. "Genius."

 

"That might also mean winning team gets their throats ripped out," Lydia deadpans.

 

Stiles waves a dismissive hand. "Nah, Derek loves us. Besides, he would never hurt the baby wolf of the pack and he's on our team." He at Liam approvingly.

 

"What — I'm not the baby of the pack! I'm sixteen." Liam growls.

 

Lydia hides a smile. _Oh honey, if only you knew_ , she thinks.

 

Abruptly, Scott jumps off the coach and bounds out the door. "War starts now! Team B follow me!"

 

"Dude, that's not fair! Sneaky asshole... okay let's go Team A, we're winning this thing." Stiles scowls, before racing out to the backyard as well. Lydia follows after him, a thrill of excitement building in her chest.

 

*  *  *

 

The freezing projectile hits her in the shoulder, then crumbles and falls harmlessly to the ground. Lydia gives Kira an impressed look, but it's already too late. Kira threw the snowball, but Lydia's own snowball hit her right after, taking away her final life.

 

Kira turns around and smiles at Scott and Malia sheepishly. "Sorry, guys." Scott and Malia don't seem upset at all though, rather, they grin at her from where they're lying on the ground, down for the count. Scott even flashes her a double thumbs up for her efforts.

 

The air is pierced with a booming victory yell. "WHOOOO, YES! LYDIA, YOU ROCK!" Stiles throws his arms around her in a hug that's more like a tackle. Startled by the impact, he sends both of them careening to the ground.

 

"Oh shit, sorry!" Stiles scrabbles at the ground frantically, trying to get up, but his boots sink into the snow uselessly.

 

Lydia can't respond, she's laughing too hard. Stiles finally realizes she's not mad and begins laughing along with her. She laughs harder when his vibrating chest sends a ticklish sensation running through her body. But then, sudden weight is dropped on top of the both of them.

 

"Hey is this a team victory thing, or am I just making this uncomfortable?" Liam's beaming face looms above her.

 

Lydia huffs, shoving both of them off her with a great heave. "You're heavy," she shakes the snow out of her hair. "Now help me up," she commands, raising an expectant hand.

 

She sees Stiles muffle a laugh, before pulling himself to his feet and locking a firm hand around her arm. "Sure, m'lady," He tips an imaginary hat to her. He glances at Liam, who's lying in the snow, giving him a similar hopeful look. "Get up, Liam."

 

Liam mock growls at him, but there's no heat behind it.

 

"We should head inside, it's getting cold." Scott says. Beckoned by the thought of hot chocolate and a warm blanket, Lydia nods. But once she and Stiles walk into the hallway, they see it. Hanging on the door, right above them, is a sprig of mistletoe.

 

"Oh." Stiles says eloquently, blinking rapidly. "Uh... do we have to...?"

 

Lydia wants to kiss Stiles. She doesn't know how long she's been feeling this way but she really, really wants to. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, lips and nose tinged pink — he's so damn _kissable_. But she... she doesn't want it to be a chore to get over with. She steps closer to him. "We... don't _have_ to do anything you don't want to."

 

Stiles' eyes look into hers, unmistakably flicking towards her lips for a brief second. Softly, he says, "okay." Lydia almost closes her eyes, but her anticipation dissipates when he steps away. _What?_

 

"I'm going to take a shower. If any weird magic mojo affects me, I'll let you know." Stiles says.

 

 _What?_ A hollow pit of disappointment forms in her stomach. She'd been so sure he was going to... _never mind_ , she swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. She said she wouldn't force him to do anything he didn't want to. _And he's made his feelings perfectly clear_ , she thinks, _he doesn't want to._

 

"I'm going to take a shower too." Lydia says, as flatly as possible. She turns away, ignoring the confusion on everyone else's faces. God, she really needs that warm shower, she thinks, shivering as the icy chill of snow and ice on her body starts to sink in.

 

* * *

 

"Oh, oh, my favourite is _All I Want For Christmas Is You_!" Malia says cheerily. "I got pretty familiar with it after Stiles' carol-ing day."

 

"Especially after he sang it about twenty times to Lydia," Scott smirks. Stiles shoots both of them dirty looks, then turns to Lydia to exchange a _can you believe them_ look like they always do. To his disappointment, she isn't looking at him — in fact, she barely seems to be paying attention to the conversation. 

 

"What's your favourite, Lydia?" Stiles asks, trying to draw her into the conversation. She gives him a brief glance then shrugs, an unreadable expression on her face.

 

"Don't have one."

 

 _Uh... okay?_ Stiles scratches his ear in confusion.

 

" _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ it is then!" Kira claps her hands, breaking the sudden tension. She begins strumming the guitar again, humming the melody before the pack joins in. " _I don't want a lot for Christmas... there is just one thing I need..._ "

 

Okay, Stiles lied. He actually likes that song, especially in relation to Lydia because of how true it is. He wants her, but there's no way he'll force himself on her just for the sake of a magic curse. Lydia deserves so much better than that.

 

Speaking of, he has no idea what's bothering Lydia now. He thought they'd gotten a lot closer in the past few days, but now she's suddenly gone cold again. The immeasurable distance between them gets under his skin like nothing he's ever felt. He hates feeling like she's something far away again, like they aren't friends.

 

"Lydia...?" He asks hesitantly.

 

"Kira, can you play _Let It Snow_ next?" Lydia interrupts, completely ignoring him. Well, she's made her intent clear. But Stiles is nothing if not persistent, and he resolves to talk to her alone later. He'll do anything to close the sudden gap between them.

 

* * *

 

He's acting like nothing even happened.

 

Something about that makes Lydia feel angry, like it doesn't matter to him at all.

 

Scott's gaze is awed and dreamy as he watches Kira play, his lips forming a soft smile. Kira catches his gaze once and blushes, brushing back her hair shyly. Lydia isn't jealous, exactly... but she can't help but wish Stiles would look at her the same way.

 

She guesses he might have looked at her with admiration, a long time ago, if his huge crush on her was any indication. But maybe things had changed after his time with Malia.

 

Maybe he realized Lydia wasn't such a big deal after all. After she'd ignored him in favour of so many other guys, maybe she deserved it.

 

* * *

 

There were six more encounters with mistletoe from the time their impromptu Christmas karaoke session ended till they all ended up lying around the television, marathoning Christmas movies. It was like mistletoe just grew above wherever they stood together. But Lydia simply walked away every time, a tight expression on her face. Stiles doesn't understand; she was the one who said she didn't want to kiss him so why was she acting upset that he respected her decision?

 

He wonders what will happen once the clock strikes midnight and he still hasn't completed the challenge. _Whatever it is, I'll deal with it when it comes, I guess._ Nothing would be worth forcing himself onto Lydia, especially not with their friendship in such a delicate state.

 

Maybe he would turn into mistletoe. It was very The Little Mermaid-esque — the original version — what with Stiles having to kiss Lydia and the threat of a magical spell looming overhead.

 

Liam lets out a snuffly sounding snore and rolls over, freeing Stiles from his weight. He prises himself out of the puppy pile — oh man, Derek would glare at him for that one and grit out the whole 'werewolves are tactile creatures' speech again.

 

"Stiles."

 

He nearly trips over Derek — close call — in his surprise. It's the first time she's said his name since the first mistletoe incident. "Lydia. I-I didn't realize you were still awake."

 

She picks her way over to the couch and settles herself beside the armrest. "I'll wait with you," she says simply, eyes clear with understanding.

 

"Oh-okay. Thanks." Stiles shuffles on the spot awkwardly. "I'll make us some coffee?"

 

He returns with two steaming mugs of coffee. "I had some peppermint in the cupboard, so I made us peppermint mocha, if that's okay with you."

 

She accepts the cup with a nod of thanks, gripping the cup gingerly with both hands.

 

"Are you cold?"

 

Lydia doesn't reply. He gives her his jacket, but she shakes her head. She takes the neatly folded blanket in the cupboard and draws it over both of them. "Oh," Stiles says dumbly.

 

"Nice try, _gentleman_." It's small, but he finally sees a smile make its way back on Lydia’s face.

 

"Chivalry is dead because the women are just too smart for us primitive men," Stiles shrugs jokingly. Lydia hits his shoulder lightly, frowning.

 

"Liar. If you could stop cutting classes whenever something supernatural occurs or maybe focus on your tests, you'd be giving me a run for my money for valedictorian position."

 

Stiles snorts. "Who's the liar now? As if anyone could ever measure up to Lydia Martin."

 

Lydia looks away — there it is again! The hint of a blush on her cheeks, her lips pursed like she's annoyed. They don't speak for the next minute. If it wasn't for the curse, Stiles is sure he would have already fallen asleep. The warmth of Lydia's body beside his is so comforting, he wishes he could move closer, really press her body into his, wrap his arms around her —

 

"Look." Lydia points above them. Stiles obliges.

 

To little surprise, it's more mistletoe.

 

"Last call," Lydia looks at him, lips pressed together tightly.

 

Stiles reaches for her hand under the blanket and gives it a squeeze. He looks at her seriously, eyes meeting hers steadily. "I won't, Lydia," he reassures her. _Not like this_ , he thinks privately.

 

She drops his gaze and they don't speak again.

 

Midnight draws closer and closer. When the last minute begins ticking down, Lydia suddenly breaks the silence.

 

"Stiles, I don't know if this is too invasive but can I just ask you one question?"

 

He nods, unsure of what she's going at.

 

"Why don't you want to kiss me? Is it because of Malia?"

 

" _What?_ " Stiles is pretty sure his complete slack-jawed expression isn't him doing him any favours in the attractiveness department but he can't help it.

 

Lydia bites her lip. Stiles would find adorable as usual, except her eyes are filled with anxiety and she seems insecure of herself, the way Lydia never is. Worry grips him and he shifts closer to her, pressing his shoulder against hers.

 

"I understand that you don't think of me the way you did before. I know Malia... opened your eyes, and that you've moved on. Not that I blame her in any way. But... would it really be that bad to kiss me?"

 

"Lydia, when did I say I didn't want to kiss you? I wanted to kiss you every single time I saw the mistletoe appeared over our heads —" _Oh my god, is this really how I'm confessing to her?_ "— you were the one who said you didn't want to kiss me! I was just respecting that."

 

"I never said I didn't want to kiss you!" Lydia's eyes go wide. _Did she really just say that?_ "I said I didn't want you to do anything _you_ didn't want to. When you walked away I thought you were just trying to say you didn't want to kiss me?"

 

"Well it's true I don't want to kiss you under the mistletoe, I don’t want to kiss you because of some curse," Stiles swallows, gripping Lydia's fingers tightly under the blanket. _Am I really doing this? She never actually said she wanted to kiss me, did she?_ "I don't want to _have_ to kiss you. I want to kiss you... when I _want_ it."

 

He catches a glimpse of the clock — crap, he's definitely going to regret this tomorrow.

 

Lydia's fingers tighten around his. He licks his lips and moves before he can give himself the chance to think twice. _Screw it._

 

* * *

 

Out of the corner of her eyes, Lydia sees the digital clock hit twelve. At exactly 12:00:01, Stiles Stilinski surges forward and kisses her.

 

He kisses like he expects to die any second — like she's the ocean and he's desperate to drown. Her body is a live wire, every neutron in her body electrified by the thrilling current coursing through her body. His mouth is warm but his breath tastes tantalizingly cool. Peppermint, Lydia thinks, dazed. Before she even gets to kiss him back, he pulls away.

 

He's so close. His whiskey-gold eyes focused on her with an intensity that both frightens and thrills her. She finds her eyes tracking every mole, every freckle on his face and wondering what it would be like to kiss every one of them, gently and sweetly until Stiles collapsed into her. His breath mists over her face, and hers catches in her throat.

 

" _I want you._ "

 

"Then kiss me again." Lydia whispers slowly, tracing out the shape of his lips with her eyes. _Forget it_ , Lydia thinks back to all the times she found herself afraid that she was actually attracted to Stiles and moves with newfound determination. _For once, she's not going to be a coward when it comes to Stiles._

 

She kisses him this time, working her way slowly into his mouth, with a gentleness that she's never had with anyone else. Stiles reacts eagerly, like she thought he would all, but he's clearly not inexperienced either. Cupping her face tenderly, he bites softly on her bottom lip. She doesn't gasp or go breathless like it's described in romance novels — no, nothing so dramatic. But something tightens, and then loosens inside her, unspooling warmth that fills her up in ways she didn't know she could feel. That's when Lydia understands _just how much_ she loves Stiles Stilinski.

 

When they finally break the kiss, the light hits his eyes in such a way that they look like they're gold, brighter than they were before. It's reminiscent of the one time they kissed before — not just because of the kiss, but the way he's looking at her. Eyes shining with pure awe and adoration, like she's something to be treasured, something precious.

 

"I — uh, wow. I kind of want to kiss you forever. Could we arrange that? I'm sure we can schedule around eating and bathroom breaks but wow that was really — wow." Stiles babbles and Lydia a strong wave of fondness washes over her.

 

"I think we could arrange that. But could we hold off till tomorrow?" Lydia laughs when Stiles pouts like a toddler who's just been told he can't have his favourite candy.

 

"But what if I turn into a reindeer tomorrow? One of Nikki's 'previous recepients' said her boyfriend turned into a reindeer — _it's a legitimate concern!_ " Stiles adds hastily when he Lydia rolls her eyes at him.

 

"Just go to sleep, Stiles. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out together. I'll kiss the reindeer if I have to."

 

For some reaason, this makes Stiles ridiculously happy. "Okay, Lyds. Goodnight."

 

Lydia doesn't know when exactly she became 'Lyds', but she can't deny the fizzy sensation that bubbles up in her stomach when she hears it. She falls asleep with a smile on her face and the lingering warmth of Stiles on her lips.

 

* * *

 

(Christmas Morning: Epilogue)

 

When Stiles wakes up in the morning, he immediately runs his hands over his hair, his face and his body. To his surprise, there aren't any extra appendages attached to him, nor anything strange or even remotely supernatural about him. He dashes to the mirror to make sure. Nope, still 100% human. Not even a hint of purple glow.

 

He lets out a whoop of relief and dashes back to Lydia's side. She's awake and sitting upright, but looking around blearily like she just woke up.

 

Stiles waves his arms around. "Not a reindeer!" He announces, then swoops in for a kiss pressed to her forehead just because he can. "Morning, sweetie!" He calls brightly.

 

Lydia turns the full force of her killer glare towards him and says, "No pet names."

 

Stiles faces his hands toward her in surrender. He moves towards her, to kiss her again but she holds him back with her a hand to his chest. "Brush your teeth first, _then_ we'll talk."

 

Stiles gives her a sloppy salute. "As you wish!" He winks at her, enjoys the small blush that rises to her cheeks — he made Lydia Martin blush! — and bounds out of the room.

 

_I kissed Lydia Martin, I kissed Lydia Martin, holy shit, I KISSED LYDIA MARTIN._

 

* * *

 

Once he's out of the room and she's safely out of his hearing range, Lydia picks up a pillow and screams into it.

 

"I'm guessing you had a good time last night?" Kira pats her on the shoulder casually.

 

Lydia smiles into the pillow. "It's not like that. He was a little late on that one. That idiot only kissed me after midnight. But we did... kiss."

 

"About time!" Malia calls from the floor, where she's packing up her pillow and blanket.

 

"You're not upset that I kissed Stiles?" Lydia asks, surprised. She didn't think Malia was the jealous type, but she hadn't expected such cheer either.

 

"It's the reason why I broke up with him," Malia states bluntly. "Everyone could see he was still crazy about you, Lydia."

 

And if _that_ didn't make her feel like the biggest idiot.

 

But still, strangely thrilled.

 

* * *

 

"Wait... so nothing would have happened anyway?" Stiles asks incredulously.

 

Nikki shrugs, biting off a chunk of her gingerbread cookie. "Nah. I don't believe in forcing people into sexual relationships. If she doesn't want to kiss you, there's nothing I can do about it."

 

Stiles flails his arms because Nikki might be the biggest hypocrite ever. "You nearly _froze off my hand_ to get me to hold hands with Lydia in the first challenge. How was I supposed to know the mistletoe challenge didn't have a forfeit?"

 

Nikki flashes them a smile full of teeth. "Well everything worked out in the end, didn't it? Admit it, you love each other and you love me for getting you together. You should really be inviting me to your wedding."

 

"I love you," Stiles says in all-seriousness, completely catching Lydia off guard. "It's you," he glares at Nikki. "Who I absolutely do not love."

 

"I love you too," Lydia blurts in an awkward fashion that's totally unlike her. But the surprised, pleased grin she receives in reply makes it worth it. _God_ , Stiles is going to be the death of her, isn't he? "But we'll invite you to our wedding... as long as you tell me where you got those shoes from!"

 

Stiles groans. " _Seriously_ , Lyds? You caved over shoes?" Lydia only smiles at him sweetly.

 

Nikki laughs, kicking the shoes off her feet. "These? You can have them, I have plenty where I come from."

 

Surprised by the sudden display of generosity, Lydia gives Nikki a genuine smile. "You're really not so bad, Nikki."

 

Nikki shrugs again, but it's clear from her tone that she's pleased. "You're welcome. I mean, the first challenge was kind of crazy but I'm young for a faerie, so I'm still learning."

 

Lydia can definitely relate to mistakes when it comes to romantic relationships. Even Stiles grudgingly loses the wariness he was showing towards her. "Come on," he says gruffly. "We'll introduce you to the pack."

 

* * *

 

"Guys, this is Nikki. You know, that crazy faerie that orchestrated all these shenanigans." Stiles says sardonically, which causes Lydia to nudge him disapprovingly.

 

"Hi," Nikki raises a hand in greeting. "Oh!" She perks up, which causes Stiles to groan internally. A happy Nikki could mean bad things. "Sorry," she says sheepishly, seeing their alarmed faces. "It's just a really nice feeling when everyone in the room is happy and content, especially with their romantic lives. Except one pair..."

 

She hovers around the room, humming, stopping next to Kira and Scott.

 

"Maybe you two need some Christmas magic next," she tells them bluntly, which causes all sort of panicky expressions to flash across their faces. Stiles stifles his laughter. Okay, he relents, Nikki might be a good friend after all.

 

"Wait, but Malia and Derek aren't even in a relationship with anyone." Liam says.

 

Nikki shakes her head. "No, but they're content with the state of their romantic life. Also, heads-up, grumpy over there is far from single. You're werewolves, can't you smell it on him?"

 

Stiles gasps and jabs an accusing finger. "You! So that's where you've disappeared to all week when I was having my Christmas crisis — you were going on romantic dates in cafes or something?"

 

Goddamn Derek doesn't even have the decency to look guilty. "I'm with Braeden," he states simply. "We don't really 'do' cafe dates."

 

Stiles gapes at him. _Unbelievable._

 

Nikki cackles — that's right, cackles — and salutes them with two fingers. "That's all, folks, I have to go! See you next time, Stydia!"

 

"What's a Stydia?" Lydia asks, looking more confused that she doesn't know what that is, rather than concerned about the actual definition.

 

Kira bounces with excitement. "Ooh! It's perfect. It's you and Stiles — your ship name." She blushes when everyone looks at her in astonishment. "What? I read."

 

Aaaaand Stiles doesn't even want to know what she's been reading but _oh this leaves so much room for mocking._ "So, Derek. What are you and Braeden then? _Draeden?_ Hah, our ship is so much stronger than yours — like anyone could be better than Sty — Sty...?"

 

"Stydia." Scott supplies helpfully.

 

"Stiles," Lydia says in that tone that she probably knows Stiles finds irresistible. "Would you stop concerning yourself with other couples and _kiss me like you said you would earlier?_ "

 

Stiles nearly falls over himself in excitement.

 

* * *

 

There's a chorus of _ooooo's_ that go off once Stiles kisses her. Lydia only draws Stiles closer to her, and relishes in the freedom she now possesses to kiss Stiles whenever, however she wants. _Finally._

 

(Overall, it's a very, very merry Christmas.)

 

(END.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're wondering what Stiles in a beanie looks like, I'll do you all a favour and disclose the link:  
> http://dyllinski.tumblr.com/post/133600758891
> 
> Look at him ripping it off. I have stared at that gif for almost two minutes, someone save me. 
> 
> (Ps. If you're confused over the Allison/Scott/Kira situation, Allison (SHE'S NOT DEAD OKAY) broke up with Scott and moved to France afterwards. Shortly after Stiles ran away from all the Scott moping, Kira began hanging out with Scott. She got him to quit lying on the floor and have fun — which is why they show up together at Stiles' house when Lydia calls them. They were already hanging out for a while and got to be friends before moving on to develop a romantic interest in each other.)


End file.
